Dodging the Blighty Bullet
by Sockitysocks
Summary: 'What would happen if there was a tricky patient or something and Jo or Miles ended up getting shot' - Based on that prompt... this is what my brain did with it ;) As in all of my fics, Jiles ! ;)


**A little (for me) one shot, going from the request of something where Miles gets shot, and this is what my brain produced :)**

**Enjoy!**

The air was thick with the smell of blood which lingered among the stench of petrol as truck upon truck unloaded a steady stream of men, some able to walk but most needing to be carried.

For some of them, the journey had been too much and their bodies were already being dragged away.

I couldn't help as my eyes searched through them, dreading to see a familiar face. So far I hadn't.

"Coleman, get as many settled as you can."

I wasn't sure who had given me the order, I just obeyed.

I slung a man's arm over my shoulders as I hauled him towards the ward. "Come on," I tried to sound encouraging. "Let's get you settled."

It took nearly a minute for him to get his feet to the side of the bed, but he finally collapsed against the clean sheets, groaning with the movement, and I guessed he'd broken his ribs.

I left him with the nurses and turned back to fetch the next when I heard a shout behind me.

Turning around I saw a young officer, a bandage across his right eye, who was swinging a crutch at one of the nurses. She jumped backwards, the crutch missing her by inches as she pleaded with him to calm.

I didn't think as I ran over. The crutch swung at me and I caught the wood, stopping it just before it connected with my head. "Alright, that's enough!" I was shouting to get my voice heard above the commotion. "You need to get into bed, sir." I let go of the crutch and tried to push his shoulders down.

"You don't tell me what to do, Private," he spat at me.

"I'm afraid as long as you're in this hospital you do what he tells you." Matron's voice came from behind me.

"I don't take orders from Privates," he snarled. "And I don't take orders from women!"

His eye was swivelling around violently in its socket.

"Now that's enough," Matron walked closer to him. "One of the doctors will be along to see you in a minute."

I glanced at where Miles was hurriedly working a few beds down. From the amount of blood on his apron I guessed he was fighting a losing battle.

My eyes flicked back to the officer just in time to see him pull out a gun. My chest tightened as the barrel lingered on me.

"I need to get back!" The officer was leaning heavily on his crutch, his eye fixed on me. "And you," he spat. "You won't stop me."

I held my arms out to him, trying to calm him. "Sir, give me the gun."

He cocked the barrel, his hand shaking as he held it out, pushing the barrel closer to me.

"Matron, you're going to get me on one of the trucks back to the front or I'm going to shoot your pathetic excuse for an orderly," he threatened. His voice was low and dangerous, and I had no doubt in my mind that he wouldn't shoot; I'd seen the look in his eye before, in the trenches when a man couldn't take it any longer. It was the sheer desperation of a broken man.

"I do not respond well to violent threats, sir," Matron said firmly, though I could see her hands shaking by her side.

I clenched my fists, raising my head as the barrel of the gun edged closer to my chest. "Sir, give me the gun," I repeated, thankful my voice held the pretence of confidence.

"Get me out of here!" he yelled, waving his arm and the gun. "I shouldn't be here!"

I could feel myself shaking as I took in a deep breath. "Give me the gun, sir."

I was vaguely aware that Miles was watching, a look of panic stretching across his face, his patient temporarily forgotten.

"I don't take orders from privates," the officer snarled again. "Now. Get. Me. Out."

I didn't respond, I just held my hand out for the gun.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Miles walking through the throng of patients towards us.

"Matron, I think you should get the Colonel," I said without turning to look at her.

Her lack of response suggested she had done what I'd asked.

The officer took a shaking step towards me, the gun digging into my chest with so much pressure that I could feel the metal cutting through my shirt and into my skin. I could hear my heart beat in my ears but I couldn't back down now; he needed to shoot, and if it wasn't me, it would be someone else.

"I said _get me out_," he hissed, emphasising each word of his command with a slight pause. His voice was so low I doubted that anyone else could have heard him.

Miles pushed past a nurse, approaching us cautiously. "Sir, I must insist that you-"

Everything that followed happened so fast; the officer's head snapped up as Miles started to speak, his hand following his sight, his shaking fingers touching the trigger.

The shot fired and for a brief moment everything seemed to still. Then my fist connected with the officer's jaw and I spun round to see Miles drop to the floor with a bone cracking thud.

Someone screamed.

My feet were moving before I even knew what had happened and I was by Miles' side in an instant, gripping his shoulders, shouting for a response from him.

I felt someone pulling me away but I struggled against them, my left hand gripping Miles'.

Tom appeared at his other side, his face nothing more than an emotionless mask.

His fingers pulled the blood-stained apron from Miles and my breath caught in my throat as I saw the pool of fresh blood spreading from his shoulder.

"Jo! Jo, _listen to me_, he'll be fine. He's just in shock." There was an edge of panic to Tom's voice as Miles was lifted onto a stretcher. "He wouldn't dare die on me." Tom's face was set, his determination clear as he followed Miles' lifeless body.

I was left, sat on the floor, staring at a puddle of Miles' blood.

Someone's shout behind me brought me back to reality, and I scrambled to my feet.

I worked in a daze, fetching patients from the trucks and filling the beds until there weren't any more beds to fill. And then there weren't any more patients.

The trucks were empty and driving away, only a cloud of dust lingering in the air where they had been.

..

My hand was still smarting as I stepped around the patients who had drawn the short straw to deserve the floor, but I couldn't feel for them now. My brain was fixed on the image of Miles lying still on the ground, blood leaking from his shoulder.

I knew shoulder wounds were treatable, but I also knew that blood loss was fatal. And there had been so much blood. I hadn't been able to tell what was his and what was from his last patient, but there had been so much.

My feet stopped as I reached the end of the officer's bed. He was still lying where he had fallen after I'd punched him; I hadn't intended on knocking him out, but the second he put Miles in danger I'd stopped thinking. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I shouldn't have punched him, I didn't want to think about what sort of trouble I'd be in for knocking out an officer, but I found that I couldn't care. Not until I knew if Miles was okay or...

_Not until I knew that Miles was okay._

I couldn't even bring myself to think of any other possibility.

The ward was beginning to quieten as all the patients fell silent; the men were either asleep or lying staring at whatever images their eyes conjured for them.

The nurses were still busy, talking quietly to the men, or changing the vacated beds to spare another man from the discomfort of the floor.

I knew that men had been and come back from the theatre, but I'd heard nothing about Miles. I wanted nothing more than to go and find him, but I knew I couldn't. I'd been ordered to stay on the ward, and I couldn't disobey a direct order. I'd already punched an officer today; I wasn't going to push my luck.

"Coleman, I need you to clean Butler's arm," one of the nurses touched my arm lightly, a sympathetic smile on her face as she gestured to one of the beds. There was already a bowl and clean rags on the table.

I gave a curt nod.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she tried to smile.

I swallowed. "His arm doesn't look bad." I knew she wasn't talking Butler but I refused to let my brain think about... that.

She gave me another – somewhat patronising – sympathetic look before turning to attend to her next patient.

I gritted my teeth and turned away, focusing on the bowl of lukewarm water and the gentle splash of the cloth as I soaked it. I pulled a chair around with my foot and perched myself onto the seat as I gently washed the grime away from the private's arm. The wound was large, but it wasn't deep. I fixed my mind on watching the skin lighten under my touch as I washed the dirt away, carefully teasing the mess from the wound itself.

Butler shifted slightly as I touched the skin but he didn't wake.

The pain that was still searing through my hand was a welcome distraction as I cleaned the cut. It gave me something to focus on and I was so focused on what I was doing that I didn't even notice as Tom ducked through the flap and began to check along the rows of beds. I only registered him when he reached Butler's bed.

My eyes snapped up to him, silently begging for him to tell me what I wanted to know. He looked tired, but he let a small smile slip onto his face as he gave me a small nod.

Relief washed through me and I could feel the tension leaving my body in a long breath.

"He wants to see you," Tom told me, his voice low as he examined something on Butler's leg, "as soon as you're done here."

My hands were shaking with relief as I nodded. I didn't say anything; I didn't trust my voice.

"He's in his tent," Tom continued, scribbling on the clipboard. "I had to give him a shot of morphine, just to warn you." His eyes finally met mine with a slight grin before he moved onto the next patient.

I was still shaking with relief when I was dismissed, my feet stumbling as I made my way across the mud.

"Private Coleman."

I turned at the call of my name to see the Colonel walking towards me.

"Sir?"

He fixed me with a gentle smile, concern edging its way onto his face. "How are you? Matron has filled me in what happened, I thought I would come and check you were okay."

I tried not to feel annoyed; he was just making sure I was okay. "I'm fine." My words sounded harsher than I'd meant. "Sir," I added hurriedly.

His face seemed to dawn in understanding. "Of course, I won't keep you. I'm sure he'll be wanting to see you too," he smiled and gave me a nod, signifying he was finished with me.

"Thank you, sir." I went to salute but pain shot through my fingers as I did and I felt my face contort.

He frowned slightly, concern creeping back into his expression.

"It's nothing," I mumbled as I turned back towards Miles' tent. To my relief he didn't press the subject, and I heard his footsteps across the decking as he walked away.

I quickened my step, shaking out my hand as I did, something I instantly regretted. Shaking it out was not a good idea. I made a mental note as I reached the tarpaulin.

"You awake?" I asked softly, nudging the flap to one side with my left hand.

A murmur that I assumed to be a 'yes' came from inside so I pushed the flap out the way before letting it fall back into place behind me.

..

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark inside the tent, but in the light of one of the lanterns I could see Miles, pale and lying on top of his bed, a bandage around his chest and shoulder. His head lolled to the side to look at me as I entered, a smile spreading across his face as he saw me.

I felt my smile matching his as I collapsed to sit on the edge of his bed.

His hand found mine and I wrapped my fingers around his. "God, you scared me," I laughed lightly, mentally cursing my voice for shaking so much.

He just grinned at me sheepishly as he sat himself up, wincing slightly. I let go of his hand just long enough to hold his waist to help him.

"Alright?" I asked with a slight laugh edging my voice.

"Fine." He gave me a slightly smaller version of his usual lopsided grin. "Just fine." He laced his fingers through mine, wincing slightly as the movement of his arm pulled at his shoulder.

He raised his left arm, tracing his fingers down my cheek. I took the hint, leaning toward him and catching his lips lightly with mine. He tasted faintly of blood. I lifted my right hand to his neck, then suddenly pulled back as the movement caused pain to shoot through my hand again.

"Shit!" I swore, clutching my wrist to keep my hand still.

Miles' smile slipped into a look of concern. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't help the strangled laugh that followed. "I'm the one supposed to be asking _you_ that." I forced my face to smile although I could feel my eyes watering against the pain. "I'm fine, it's just a bruise." Even to my own ears I didn't sound convincing.

Miles just sighed and held his hands out, gently taking hold of mine. His raised his eyebrows slightly as his fingers caressed the back of my hand.

"Just a bruise? Jo, I think you've broken your hand!" He looked at me, his eyes full of worry. "What happened?"

"No, it's not broken!" I knew there was no use arguing but I couldn't help myself.

"Of course not, it's not like I'm a doctor or anything," he rolled his eyes at my stubbornness, his usual grin lapsing onto his features. "What did you do to it?"

I grinned slightly. "I punched him." I had to admit I was proud. "He was out cold."

Miles' eyes widened slightly and he let out a small chuckle. "I'm sorry I missed it."

"I think you were a little pre-occupied with the bullet embedded in your shoulder," I joked lightly, "but I'm fairly sure no one's going to forget it for a while."

Miles laid my hand down gently. "I'm glad that's the worst injury you got," he said quietly, his fingers tracing the small cut through my shirt where the gun's barrel had been. "When I saw him pointing the gun at you I thought I was going to lose you."

I could feel my eyes pricking with tears as my mouth split into a smile. I rubbed my eyes with my left hand, laughing at myself. "Don't you get all sentimental on me," I protested, holding back the tears that caught in my throat. "I'm not the one that just got shot."

He smiled slightly, running his thumb under my eye, wiping away an escaped tear. "For which I will be forever glad," he whispered as he pulled my mouth back to his.

I noticed that he twisted his right arm to hold my right forearm so that I wouldn't move my hand anymore. I smiled into the kiss, leaning closer into him, all the while making sure I didn't put any pressure on his shoulder.

"I thought I told you to rest."

I turned around as Tom appeared behind me, a smile sat on his lips.

"That doesn't quite look like resting."

Miles just grinned back. "I've never been good at following orders."

"So I've noticed." Tom gave a slight roll of his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Spectaculacular." He grinned at me as he quoted my morphine induced adjective.

Tom raised his eyebrows slightly but I just laughed.

"Though I think you've got one more patient to see to, Thomas," Miles grinned as Tom frowned again.

"My beautiful idiot here," Miles laughed, gesturing to me. "I think you'll find she has cleverly broken her hand."

Tom turned to me. "You broke your hand?" he asked, his face contorted in confusion. "How the hell did you do that?"

"Punching the bastard that shot Miles?" I grinned innocently, my voice rising into a question. "I guess I punched him a little harder than I meant to."

Tom laughed. "Bloody hell," he grinned, taking hold of my hand and running his fingers over the annoyingly prominent swelling, "how ladylike of you."

I winked back. "I have always had a strong feminine streak."

..

It didn't take long for Tom to bind my hand up tightly. "I think it's only your knuckle that's actually broken, but you'll need to keep it still for a few days all the same." he told me as he tied the bandage off.

I grinned at him. "Yes, Captain."

"I suppose I should go and check what damage you've enlisted on that bastard," Tom sighed, almost resentfully.

I knew that, after having to dig the bullet out of his friend, he couldn't care less what became of the man who had shot him, but as a doctor he couldn't refuse to treat a patient just because he didn't like them.

I caught his arm as he turned to leave. "I'm not going to get into trouble, am I?" I asked, biting my lip slightly. "For punching an officer?"

"I shouldn't think so," he smiled kindly. "You were protecting everyone else on that ward – if anyone's going to get a bollocking it'll be him for shooting a Captain. Last time I checked that was frowned upon in the British Army."

I grinned at his reassurance. "Thanks."

He patted my shoulder. "I'll talk to the Colonel anyway; I'll let him know you need to take at least a day or two to get that hand mended."

I smiled my thanks at him as he ushered me out the theatre.

"You get back to Miles before he wakes up and complains that we left him alone," he grinned, then wiggled his eyebrows. "Just make sure he takes it easy, I don't want him straining himself." He nudged my arm suggestively and winked.

I pressed my lips together in an attempted glare but I couldn't keep the smile from my face. "I'll tell him you said that!"

"Oh, please do!" Tom laughed as he walked away. "He might actually listen if it came from you." He turned back one more time, his face in as wide a smile as ever. "I hope you realise that he is going to be the neediest, most difficult patient that you will ever encounter – and he's all yours!"

I opened my mouth and let out a heavy sigh, though my breath was shaking with laughter. "Unfair," I protested as he walked away, his laugh hanging in the air.

I knew he was right, though; there was no way Miles was going to make this easy for me.

**There you go!**

**As always, I'd love to hear feedback :)**

**New suggestions and prompts are always welcome and if there's anything you want me to write please let me know :D**


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